


Reckless

by Planty



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planty/pseuds/Planty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even with his entire past considered, Isaac will still say that making dinner is one of the most stressful things he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaitlia777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/gifts).



> Deviates from canon after 3b

Isaac will need to write the events of this day down. It will be recorded in history as the single most stressful grocery trip in anybody’s life  _ever._

“So what kind of dinner were you hoping to cook?” Melissa asks breezily, completely unaware of Isaac’s inner freak out.

Isaac stares down the aisle and into the abyss. Slabs of meat glisten at the butchers counter, spices lined up the side promise to liven up his hypothetical meal and the chillers aren’t the only cause of the little shiver he gets as he paces along. Melissa briskly trots beside him, manoeuvring the cart expertly.

“Does he like steak?” she asks. Isaac shrugs and Melissa purses her lips.

“Pork? What about fish?”

Another shrug.

“How about shellfish?”

Isaac tries to put as much desperation as possible into the look he sends Melissa. Ever since he came back from France, Isaac had slotted himself into the McCall household with relative ease. They’d quite literally welcomed him back with open arms; Scott near crushing him into a bear hug at the airport, Melissa gathering him into a brief but comforting hug as soon as he stepped over the threshold of her house. There was still a lingering air of grief whenever Allison or Erica or Boyd was brought up, but it was bearable – more good days than bad, more good _memories_ than bad.

Life was actually getting better for them both. Scott and Kira were exceptionally sweet together and Isaac –

Well, Isaac was _hoping_ he was going to be exceptionally sweet with someone.

“I can’t choose between salmon or steak.”

Melissa doesn’t even laugh at the desperation in his tone, she simply says, “steak’s easier to cook, but salmon is more impressive.”

It’s hardly the choice of the century and yet Isaac simply can’t make it, so he rifles in his pocket and pulls out a penny.

“Heads, salmon. Tails, steak.”

He flips the coin up into the air and catches it deftly, looking at the result with far more trepidation than is probably warranted by a coin toss.

“Heads,” he tells her, “guess I’m tackling the salmon.”

* * *

 

Isaac went to France with Chris Argent four months earlier. They’d stayed together for a few days, and Chris – in a strange show of charity - gave Isaac a crash course in French culture, the language and the area, with Isaac trying and failing to keep up. On their last day together, Chris cornered Isaac and handed him a wad of papers.

“I pulled some strings.” He said calmly. “This is your working Visa.”

“My - ?”

“I found a café in Calais that’s willing to take you on. Most of their customers are English, so the language barrier shouldn’t be an issue, but if it is, the owner’s son is willing to give you some lessons. They have a room above the café you’re free to take. It’s small, but there’s a bed and bathroom and it’s a roof over your head.”

“How the hell did you do this in one week?”

Chris watched him for a while, his eyes filled with a strange kind of emptiness. Isaac wondered if there was some guilt in there too. “I pulled some strings,” he said again.

Isaac had no idea what kind of strings Chris had control over, but he was grateful for their result. That was the last conversation they had, Chris flew back to Beacon Hills the next day and Isaac stayed in France, alone.

* * *

 

Isaac didn’t know cooking was hazardous for his health.

No, really. He’s going to start campaigning for a health warning to be stamped on the cover of every cook book.

“What’s this?” Scott asks, poking the pile of bloodied lemons, a concerned furrow in his brow. Isaac waggles his fingers, the wound having soon healed but the mental scars still fresh in his mind.

“I was trying this speed-slicing technique.”

“And?”

“And I wasn’t very good at it.”

Scott grins, sweeping the lemons and debris into a trash bag. “Need a hand? Y’know, since you seem to be intent on hacking your own off.”

“Yeah, yeah – uh, how fast can you dial for a pizza?”

* * *

 

One month into his stay, Isaac had learned enough French to take basic drink and meal orders, ask people to be quiet and explain that he comes from America. He thought he’d made good progress – and then his tutor, Alec, would launch off into long winded spiel of French and Isaac was left floundering.

“Pitiful.” Alec would say, shaking his head in amusement. Then he’d casually mention that Isaac would never get a date ever again, to which Isaac would snort and insist that he wasn’t looking to date.

“Are you sure? A lot of my friends like the sound of the good looking American boy I’m tutoring.” Alec teased.

 _“Non.”_ Isaac said firmly, reluctantly grinning at Alec’s responding laugh. He wasn’t really used to that; the flirting, the easy banter, the endless compliments about his looks. Isaac had always considered himself fairly nondescript when it came to his appearance, but Alec constantly cranked up the charm. It kind of worked for a while and Isaac was pretty tempted cave into temptation.

Right up until a tall, tanned, dimpled boy strolled into the café and ordered a coffee and croissant in French almost as broken as Isaac’s own.

* * *

 

Outside, a car purrs up the street. Isaac freezes. Melissa had helped him rescue the meal before she left for work, but it still doesn’t feel ready. Scott had blitzed the house before he disappeared off with Kira, helping Isaac clean and set the table, but it still didn’t look ready. Isaac had been preparing for this date for a _month_ and he still _doesn’t feel ready_.

The doorbell trills. Isaac swallows down several desperate whines and strolls to the door.

“Hey, Danny,” he greets.

* * *

 

Alec had taken Danny’s order, but Isaac begged him to trade tables. Alec. Predictably, hadn’t been too keen on the idea.

“But’s he’s _cute,”_ Alec wheedled, “and look at what he’s wearing, he’s clearly got money so you know he’ll tip well.”

“Then you can have whatever he tips, it’s just – I – he’s from _Beacon Hills._ I want to see him.”

Alec huffed but eventually relented at the promise of cold hard cash. Isaac thanked him profusely before hurrying over to Danny’s table, the coffee clutched in his hand sloshing over the sides with his speedy pace. Danny stared down at his phone, completely unaware of Isaac’s presence.

It was then Isaac had an attack of paranoia. What if Danny didn’t want to see him? He may’ve written that sweet little message in Isaac’s get well card, but there was also the lingering, undiscussed topic of Ethan. Had Danny been aware of Isaac’s reason for despising him so?

There was only so long Isaac could stand there and dither before the owner took notice. He cleared his throat,

“Coffee and a croissant?”

Danny’s head whipped up at the voice and his easy smiled slacked into a stunned gawp, “holy crap, _Isaac?”_

“Hey.”

Danny stared wordlessly. Isaac cleared his throat.

“I need to put your food down.”

Danny blinked looking from the table, on which his arms rested on, to the plates in Isaac’s hands. Eventually his brain seemed to catch up with him and he hastily withdrew himself.

“Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I could say the same,” Isaac replied, setting down the order. Danny chuckled.

“Yeah, uh, I took a little time out for Summer vacation, so I thought I’d go to London and see Jackson for a while and then hit mainland Europe. Kind of a mini-bucket list.”

“Oh?”

“After everything, I’m kind of aware of my own mortality and what better way to combat the paranoia of impending doom than a nice continental road trip?”

“Should I be worried that we apparently had the same idea?”

“Nah, great minds think alike and all that,” Danny dismissed with an easy grin. “Seriously though Isaac, what really brings you here?”

“I was being serious when I said we had the same idea.”

Danny’s smile faded a little, “getting away from it all,” he clarified gently.

“Kinda.”

“Forgive me if I’m prying, but isn’t it bad to be away from your pack for so long?”

The noise Isaac made wasn’t exactly human; granted, Isaac himself wasn’t exactly human, but he felt the right to express his shock that the wolf had been let out of the bag.

“Uh ..”

“You, Scott and Stilinski,” Danny said, delicately stirring his coffee, “were great at defending the town but kinda crappy at whispering.”

“We _tried,”_ Isaac insisted defensively. Danny laughed with such delight that Isaac felt his own mouth twitch in echo.

“Admirable effort, I’m sure, but it didn’t take more than a Google session to figure out what had you guys so keyed up.”

“How long have you know?”

“A while,” Danny said simply. “I didn’t get involved because I’m kinda keen on the whole self-preservation thing. I’m not quite as brave as you guys.”

“We’re more reckless than brave,” Isaac reasoned. A small part of him wished that Danny had been around to help them, but another was relieved he’d kept them at arm’s length. They didn’t need another person’s blood on their hands, and Isaac didn’t think Danny’s would ever wash off.

“Whatever you are, I’m a little in awe of it,” Danny said.

“You’d be the first.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Danny said firmly, “you guys took on something unthinkable and made it out the other end. That’s incredible.”

“People died,” Isaac pointed out quietly. Danny nodded, the humour slowly slipping from his face.

“Like I said, you took on something unthinkable.”

He squeezed Isaac’s hand briefly.

When Isaac first saw Danny, there had been a giddy thrill at the sight of a familiar face and Isaac thought that was the only reason for it. Yet in the warm light of retrospect, Isaac realised it was _butterflies_ he’d felt.

* * *

 

“Cute apron.” Danny says as the front door swings open. Isaac glances down at his _Kiss the Cook_ apron and flushes, attempting to tug it off, succeeding only in tangling it around his head and eyes. He stumbles like total moron for a few seconds before a pair of hands place themselves on his shoulders and help him delicately pull the apron off. Isaac’s vision reappears, Danny’s amused face coming before him.

“I totally had that under control.” Isaac says, deadpan.

“I know.” Danny says, equally deadpan. “So, which way’s the kitchen?”

* * *

 

Danny could only hang around the café for so long. True to Alec’s prediction, he left a hefty tip which Alec took with glee.

“Boyfriend of yours?” Alec asked curiously. Isaac shook his head, watching Danny retreat.

“No, just a friend.”

“Missed opportunity, more like.”

Isaac shook his head, still watching Danny walk away. Alec peered at him thoughtfully.

“Something on your mind?”

Isaac nodded, making a decision that probably merited more far more thought than five seconds of planning.

“I’m going back to Beacon Hills.”

* * *

 

Isaac’s pretty pleased with how his salmon turned out. With any luck, Danny _won’t_ have food poisoning, which is always a high note to end a date on. Nevertheless, he likes to have all his bases covered.

“You don’t have to eat it all if you don’t like it, I’m not really much of a cook. I mean, we can order a pizza or - ”

Danny reaches out and covers Isaac’s hand in his own. “Relax,” he says simply, letting Isaac fall into silence. “It’s delicious. How did you know I liked salmon?”

“I didn’t. The Gods of Fate did.”

“What?”

Isaac toys with the last few flakes of fish on his plate, grinning abashedly, “I had no idea what to cook you, so I flipped a coin.”

Danny smiles, his eyes creasing at the corners. Isaac wishes he was one of those people who could maintain a sense of decorum around a smile that sunny, “the coin chose well.”

“Yeah, Lincoln really knew what made a good meal. I guess that’s why they put him on the penny.”

“Not because of his presidency?”

Isaac grins, “eh, maybe.”

They settle into silence after that. Warm, comfortable silence that Isaac could almost bathe in.

“Dessert?” Isaac asks after the last few traces of food are gone. Danny hums thoughtfully.

“Sure.”

“It’s just ice cream and sauce.”

“Sounds good.”

They both stand, Danny gathering up the plates and depositing them in the sink before Isaac can tell him to not lift a single finger.

Then –

Danny is next to Isaac and before he knows it, their lips meet. In the past and with other people, Isaac’s always been a little too focussed on making sure that it’s a good kiss to lay back and enjoy it, but Danny’s masterful and getting him to relax and open up.

Without thinking about it too much, it’s the best kiss Isaac’s had. The break apart, Danny’s cheeks flushing lightly and Isaac’s almost certainly doing the same.

“Thanks,” Isaac blurts.

Danny blinks in total confusion and then laughs.

“Did you just thank me for kissing you?”

“A little, but I kinda had to say it. Thank you. You did … a lot, you know?”

Danny doesn’t reply to that. He just smiles, leans in and kisses Isaac again.


End file.
